The first time Percy came backhe was not sailing on a cloud.He was loping along the sand as thoughhe had come a great way.“Percy,” I cried out, and reached to him—

those white curls—but he was unreachable. As musicis present yet you can’t touch it.“Yes, it’s all different,” he said.“You’re going to be very surprised.”But I wasn’t thinking of that. I onlywanted to hold him. “Listen,” he said.“I miss that too.And now you’ll be telling stories

of my coming backand they won’t be false, and they won’t be true,but they’ll be real.”And. then, as he used to, he said, “Let’s go!”And we walked down the beach together.